


God Bless The Sad And Selfish (This Is Me Confessing)

by DaisukiRose



Category: Fall Out Boy, Soul Punk (Album)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Catholic Church, Angst, Angst and Humour, Catholic, Eventual Smut, I don't know much about Catholocism so forgive me, I'm really bad at smut but this story's undoubtedly gonna have a lot of it so, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Priest Kink, Priest Patrick, Prostitute Gerard, Prostitution, Punk pete, so much sin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisukiRose/pseuds/DaisukiRose
Summary: Father Stump heard almost nothing but those seven words every day, and then different versions of the same sins over and over. “Yes, child. Tell me your sins.” He recited almost robotically, sitting slumped on the other side of the confessional screen, very, very tired and definitely not hung over, if anyone was wondering. He was the priest of Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic church in Chicago, after all, and priests weren’t supposed to down a bottle of whiskey with nothing but their houseplant, Leviticus, for company on a perfectly fine Tuesday night before Wednesday confession. Not that Leviticus wasn’t great company, because he listened amazingly and never interrupted Patrick when he was talking, but he was just a spider plant, who closely resembled fancy, overgrown grass, and couldn’t really reply to anything said to him for that very reason.  OR The one where Patrick is a terrible excuse for a priest, Pete is a terrible excuse for Catholic, and Gerard is a trustworthy prostitute. Priest, Punk, and Prostitute AU inspired by the song "Love, Selfish Love" by Patrick Stump





	1. Hear You've Got Your Troubles (Or So I've Been Told)

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Father Stump heard almost nothing but those seven words every day, and then different versions of the same sins over and over. “Yes, child. Tell me your sins.” He recited almost robotically, sitting slumped on the other side of the confessional screen, very, very tired and definitely not hung over, if anyone was wondering. He was the priest of Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic church in Chicago, after all, and priests weren’t supposed to down a bottle of whiskey with nothing but their houseplant, Leviticus, for company on a perfectly fine Tuesday night before Wednesday confession. Not that Leviticus wasn’t great company, because he listened amazingly and never interrupted Patrick when he was talking, but he was just a spider plant, who closely resembled fancy, overgrown grass, and couldn’t really reply to anything said to him for that very reason. 

The soul in the confessional, a middle-aged woman by the sounds of her voice, went into an excruciatingly detailed account of the sin she’d committed (adultery, if anyone was wondering, and apparently a certain Mr. Johnson had… quite a nice Johnson) while Patrick closed his eyes, blocking her out and sighing hopefully soft enough to where she couldn’t hear him. This woman came in at least once a month to ‘repent for her sins,’ and her sins were always the same. She was easy to deal with, at least. Two Hail Mary’s, and she could be on her way. “Father?” She said, and it was only then that Patrick realized he’d been quiet for awhile. 

“Yes, my child, say two Hail Mary’s and Jesus will accept you as His own.” He said, his voice kind but his mind blank. “Know your wrongs, accept it, and please, stay away from Mr. Johnson if he is so tempting. The devil may be testing you.”

The woman giggled. “Yes Father.” She said. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me, thank the Father above.” He said, a fleeting smile crossing his face as he pulled down the heavier, soundproof shutter between the two rooms, marking that Confession was, at last, over. He’d been sitting in the small, dark box for three hours, listening to stories of sex, alcohol, and sin, each the same as at least three others from earlier. He opened the door that led to his private office, grabbing his water bottle and downing half of it, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror and cringing. He’d ran his hands through his strawberry blond hair so many times that it was stood on end, his grey-blue eyes were tired and bloodshot, black suit wrinkled over his frame. He really needed to sleep better, he thought, and maybe stick to his own principles more. If he went to confession, he’d definitely have a lot to confess for, he thought bitterly as he pulled on his suit coat and fedora. He fell into his car and started it without remembering having done so, starting the short drive home as an old Bowie record crooned through his speakers. Twenty-seven really was too young to be a priest. He’d fall into bed when he got home after removing his collar, and hopefully sleep until Mass on Sunday. _Yes,_ he thought. _That sounds nice. I’ll just sleep until Sunday. That’s only like… four days? Three? God, I don’t know._

It only took him fourteen minutes to drive home, three to rid himself of his coat, hat, shoes, and clergy collar, and less than fifteen seconds to collapse into bed at 6:30 on a Wednesday evening, mentally and physically exhausted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to his word, he didn’t leave his house until Sunday morning, when he showered, got dressed, and pulled on a suit coat as he rolled out the door to Mass. He didn’t even really know why he trained to be a priest, didn’t remember what had sparked his sudden interest in the Catholic church, but he certainly regretted it now. _Why did I think this was a good idea?_ Patrick wondered as he sorted his folder in his office. _Twenty seven years old, with my whole life in front of me, just as gay as Freddie Mercury, and I had to become a priest. Good going, Stump._

As he walked up to the pulpit, a folder with that day’s speech in his hand, he felt the same listlessness, the same repetitiveness wash over him. “Welcome, all,” He said, deep voice echoing through the church. He looked at all the faces watching him, and sighed. “Please, close your eyes and join me in a quick reading of Psalm 140 as our morning prayer.” He watched as all the heads bowed. It was something Godlike, standing up on the pulpit and commanding his flock, not that Patrick had a God complex about it or anything. He scanned his eyes over the room one more time, checking everyone’s head was down, and was satisfied until his eyes fell on a man about Patrick’s own age in the second to back row, head straight up, a dangerous smirk on his face as his dyed-black hair fell into one eye. 

It was almost revolting, the look of easy disobedience on the man’s face, but Patrick recited the Psalm anyways, eyes never leaving the man in the second to last row. “Deliver me, O Lord, from evil men,” His voice flowed, smooth as honey while he never broke eye contact. “Preserve me from violent men, who plan evil things in their hearts; they continually gather us together for war. They sharpen their tongues like a serpent; the poison of asps is under their lips. Keep me, O Lord, from the hands of the wicked; Preserve me from violent men, who have purposed to make my steps stumble. In Jesus’ name, and all the congregation said,” Patrick paused, hands out, waiting for the murmur to come.

“Amen,” Every head in his congregation parroted, every head but one, the one with the smirk and the dyed black hair in the second to last row. 

“Amen,” Patrick repeated softly. “Amen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man with the black hair and the easy smile found Patrick after service, shaking hands and lending smiles to his congregation as they walked out. He was near the back of the line of people, straggling behind so as to get a chance to talk with Patrick. “Father,” the man said, his voice the auditory incarnation of a smirk, honey-slow like his eyes. “When is confession? I fear I have sinned.”

“I hold an open confession on Wednesday afternoons,” Patrick replied, his voice raising higher than he had meant. “But special ones can be scheduled with need.”

“It looks like I’ll see you Wednesday, then, Father.” The man said, smiling and shaking his hand with a wink. 

Patrick shook his head as he shut the church doors after the man. Strange people.


	2. Maybe Just A Couple, But I'm Not Quite Sold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick is gay. Gay shit ensues. Gerard is kind of bad at being a prostitute.

_Priests don’t drink,_ Patrick reminded himself as he found the fourth shot of whiskey burns the same as the last three on its way down. _Priests don’t drink, and priests certainly don’t drink in gay bars._ He watched as men shamelessly flirted with each other, drunken groping in the back of the bar the new pick-up line, and a quick fuck in the restroom the new first date. It was vile, it was dirty, and it was exactly what he needed right now. It was exactly the thing a priest wouldn’t do, but it was amazing how much a little eyeliner and a lot of liquor could change his appearance into something generally un-priestlike. 

The song that was playing over the speakers was something decidedly trap in tastes, something Patrick wouldn’t be caught dead listening to but was nonetheless. He supposed, if nothing else, it set a good pace for whatever the couple in the far-back was doing. He wasn’t unaware of his surroundings, no, he saw the call boys lined up against the wall, tiny smirks on their faces, he saw the men who bought their services, he saw everything his religion stood against in a single room, and it was exhilarating. “Hey, buddy,” The bartender yelled over the music, someone with a clean-shaven face and dark chocolate eyes. “If you’re here alone, go live a little, talk to them.”

_Oh no,_ Patrick almost said. _I shouldn’t, I can’t, I’m a priest._

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Patrick said instead, slamming a $20 on the bar as he wiped his lips and shook his head. None of the boys were to his tastes, to be honest – They were all young, barely legal, either the owners of very convincing babyfaces or too young to legally be here, dressed scantily and smirking, any over-masculine business executive’s dream, but not what he wanted, not what he needed. 

“Hey, handsome,” A voice whispered, hot breath catching on his ear and sending shivers down his spine. “Looking for someone?”

Patrick turned around to come face-to-face with a man with fiery red shoulder-length hair and an easy pout, about four inches taller than himself, but then again, everyone was. He pulled at the hem of his tight tanktop almost absentmindedly as Patrick stood gawking. “Uhm, yeah, actually.” Patrick managed, making the taller man smile.

“Maybe I can help you out,” The man said, blinking kohl-lined hazel eyes and smiling. “What does the lucky guy you’re searching for look like?”

“I think he’s right in front of me.” Patrick said, licking his lips and deciding that maybe this was his break from his life of celibacy and all the other terrible things that came with being a holy man. 

“I think he is,” The man purred, hand on Patrick’s chest. “Two hundred bucks and I’m all yours for the night, baby.”

Patrick bit back a gasp at his own blatancy as he nodded, hands finding the man’s hips. “Sounds perfect. I’m Patrick, by the way.”

The man laughed, causing confusion to knit Patrick’s brows together. “Ah, no, It’s okay. You can call me Gee.” This man, Gee, ran a hand over Patrick’s forehead softly. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s too cute.” Gee took Patrick’s hand and led them out of the bar, an easy, self-assured smile on his face while Patrick’s buzzed brain sprinted to keep up with what he’d just done.

“Where to, big boy?” Gee asked after they were out of the noise of the club and out into the chilly March air, not even blinking at the sudden temperature change against his exposed skin. 

Patrick pulled car keys out of his pocket and pressed the unlock button, the running lights on his unassuming black car flashing. “My house?” He said, really more of a question, which made Gee laugh.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” He asked, and Patrick shook his head. “Oh god, don’t tell me you’re married or a virgin or something. You aren’t, are you?”

Patrick realized Gee was probably being a little pushier than other… clients… let him be because he was obviously just a scared little man neck-deep in all sorts of shit he’d never done before. “I’m not, no.” Patrick sad with more conviction, realizing his buzz was already fading. “How does this usually work?”

Gee tried to hide an amused smile as he answered. “Well,” He said, inching closer and walking fingers up Patrick’s chest. “We’ll go somewhere, your house or a motel, either is nice, and maybe I’ll get you all worked up in the car, or maybe I’ll wait until we get there, but by the time we get there, all you’ll be able to think about is my hands and my mouth and my breath on your neck, and then comes the fun part,” He chuckled huskily, lips an inch away from Patrick’s ear. “Then, you’ll unlock the door, pull me inside, maybe you’ll kiss me or maybe you won’t, I’ll get down on my knees for you, and you’ll want me so bad, you’ll tell me what to do, or maybe I’ll have to tell you what it is I’m doing, we’ll make our way to the bed and one of us will end up on top of the sheets, maybe it will be me, with you over the top of me, or maybe I’ll get the pleasure. Are you a top, or a bottom? Do you want my dick or do I want yours?”

“O-okay.” Patrick managed, eyes wide, voice unsteady as he awkwardly repositioned his legs to try and hide the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. “Okay, yeah, let’s um… Let’s get in the car.”

Gee laughed, backing up a step and running a hand through his fiery red hair. “There we go, that’s it. Let’s go, honey.”

Patrick slipped into the driver’s side as Gee was situating himself in the passenger seat, eyes looking around the car and then back to Patrick as he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it over. Patrick pulled out of the parking lot and gasped as he felt hands on his thigh, looking over into an innocent smile and devious eyes. “Whoops,” Gee whispered against the shell of his ear. “Couldn’t wait.”

“Just,” Patrick took a shaky breath. “Don’t make me crash my car.”

“I would never, darlin’.” Gee purred in his ear, hands wandering up Patrick’s leg and to his crotch, flitting dangerously close to his crotch. “Keep your eyes on the road and we shouldn’t have a problem.”

Patrick licked his lips, nodding quickly. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I can do that.” He said, voice lower. “About three minutes until we’re to my house.”

“I better work faster then,” Gee purred, head disappearing out of Patrick’s field of vision, and then – Oh fuck. 

Lips were ghosting along the hem of his pants, over the fabric covering his thigh, teasing around his dick and making his breath hitch in his throat. Thanks to some creative driving techniques (involving two run red lights, but who was counting?) Patrick and Gee arrived at his house, Patrick biting at his lip and Gee smiling innocently, one hand on Patrick’s thigh, the other one busy trying to undo his belt. Patrick threw the car into park, taking the key out of the ignition and turning to Gee with a shaky breath, eyes dark. “Inside?” He asked, knowing the answer before he asked the question.

“Anything for you, baby.” Gee smiled as he removed himself from Patrick, sliding out of the car and smiling at him over the roof. He let Patrick grab his hand and pull him towards the door, fumbling for his keys in the dark. That succeeded in making Gee smile, reaching his hands around the smaller man to palm him from behind, pulling him snug to his body and making him gasp. “I’m so hard for you,” Gee whispered into Patrick’s ear, listening to his voice hitch. 

Patrick finally got the key into the lock, flinging the door open and pulling Gee inside, pressing him back against the door as it closed and connecting their lips, _finally._ He licked into the other man’s mouth, eliciting a gasp that he was quite proud of, lips pulling them together and hands working to take off clothes. Patrick had managed to take off Gee’s tanktop while the other man worked off Patrick’s button up shirt, breaking the kiss with a sly smile as he sunk to his knees, tugging at the button of Patrick’s jeans as he mouthed the outline of his cock. Patrick fought not to throw his head back against the unforgiving wood of the door as he watched what Gee was doing, watched as his pants were undone and pulled down along with his boxers, letting his dick spring free. That was almost release enough as he sucked in a breath at the cool air of his house hitting sensitive skin, and before he could open his eyes again, Gee’s mouth was on him. “Oh, God,” Patrick moaned, reprimanding himself for taking the Lord’s name in vain, but then again, situation considered, it was definitely the less of two evils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I cut it off right at the good part, but sue me.  
> Comments and kudos are the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins!  
> ~xoxodaisukirose
> 
> ALSO  
> I'm starting a Patreon account, to which I will link members-only stories, art, and videos, so if you want to help support my goals and dreams, that would be majorly rad c: It's $1 a month, and I know not a lot of people can afford that, but if you can then please do help me. :)
> 
> https://patreon.com/user?u=4718678
> 
> Thank you!


	3. I'm Indifferent To The Difference Between Tomorrow And Today

Patrick and Gee lay in bed, Patrick red-faced and Gee smirking slightly, eyes closing. Patrick was quiet as he looked at anything but the right side of his bed, and the red-haired man watched him closely, stupid smirk never leaving his full lips. “What’s eating you, hon?” He drawled, New Jersey accent cutting the words to ribbons. Patrick sighed, and Gee continued. “It wasn’t me, was it? I can make it up to you…”

“Oh, no, heavens, not you.” Patrick laughed softly. “Well, Kind of… I mean… I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Everyone needs a little stress relief sometimes.” Gee purred. They were both quiet for a moment as Gee sat up, looking around the room. “Is that…” His eyes widened as he looked under the bookshelf, and then his smirk grew. “A priest’s collar? Priest play, is that it?”

Patrick’s eyes widened. Priest play? Was that even a thing? “Uhm…”

“Oh my God, you’re a priest.” Gee accused, laughing. “Like, a real holy man. A priest just fucked me. There’s gotta be a special room in Hell for people who fuck priests.” His eyes were crinkled up as he tried and ultimately failed to stop laughing as he saw the look that flashed across Patrick’s face.

“I…” Patrick tried. “Yeah, I… Fuck. Yeah, I’m a priest.” Patrick admitted, looking at his clerical collar abandoned under the nightstand with contempt.

“Well, Father, you’re not very good at this.” Gee had managed to keep his laughter back to an occasional snort, and he fixed Patrick in an amused gaze. “I don’t think you’re allowed to have me here, no?”

“Definitely not.” Patrick agreed.

“A word of advice?” Gee said, fighting against laughing again. “You probably shouldn’t tell your bishop that you definitely fucked a dude. That’s gotta be against, like, at least one law.”

“Three, actually.” Patrick admitted, and Gee snorted. “I pretty much threw away my religion in a night.”

“That’s quite a big accomplishment for one little man.” Gee noted. “So, let me get this straight…”

“You met an eyeliner-wearing priest drunk off his ass in a gay bar and then he paid you to have sex with him, yes.” Patrick said, making Gee burst into laughter again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gee said, waving his hand in front of his face as mascara threatened to run down his cheeks. “It’s just really funny, oh, nobody’s made me laugh that hard in a long time.”

“Glad I could be of assistance.” Patrick said lamely, making Gee snort one last time.

“I do have a question for you though, Father Patrick,” Gee said, rolling over to be almost on top of the man, sexy smile inches away from Patrick’s face. “You have me for the rest of the night. What are we going to do?”

Patrick tried to think quick, he really did, and he glanced over to the clock on the wall. 1:47 AM, it read in bright red letters. “I mean, I technically paid you yesterday,” Patrick noted. “I’m kind of tired, uhm…”

“You’re too cute.” Gee rolled his eyes, kissing at Patrick’s chest. “Too, too cute to be around guys like me. And you have me until 8 AM. So, if you’re going to sleep then I will too, but I’m doing it here because you’re cute and your bed is comfortable, and, no offense Father, but I’m pretty sure you’re not the type of guy to rape me while I’m sleeping.”

“None taken?” Patrick questioned, popping one eye open and looking quizzically at Gee.

“Shut up.” Gee murmured, slinging an arm across Patrick’s chest. “Your warm. As of now, you’re paying me to cuddle you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patrick woke up in a warm bed, arms full of something soft and lanky. He cracked open his eyes and all he could see is red – Crimson hair shielding his vision, he realized, and woke with a start, remembering the events of the night before. Gee, he remembered, and his priest collar… Today was Sunday. He had mass in – he checked the bedside clock – an hour. “Holy smokes.” He whispered, arms out, trying to figure out what to do with the man splayed on top of him. “Oh noooo,” He stressed the word, trying to slip out from underneath Gee and ultimately succeeding in waking him up.

Gee let out a sleepy yawn, rubbing his eyes as his lips turned into a pout. “You’re too cute.” He mumbled, smiling sleepily. “Trying not to wake me up like that. Where are you rushing off to? ‘s early.”

“Mass.” Patrick said, flinging open the doors on his closet and pulling out a pre-ironed church suit. “I’m supposed to already be there, it starts in an hour!”

“Oh, a naughty priest.” Gee smiled, seemingly remembering. “The priest is afraid to be late, hurrying out of his humble abode and away from his faithful whore to preach the word of The Big Man Upstairs.” Gee states in a droning monologue, like someone announcing a television show. 

Patrick huffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re not helping.” He stated flatly, looking down at himself before back up at Gee. “Could you turn around? I have to get dressed here.”

“The priest has seemingly forgot that less than twelve hours before, his almighty dick was the one doing the preaching.” Gee droned on, trying to keep his face neutral but failing as a grin peaked his lips. “His faithful whore, however, has not forgotten, and is therefore, not turning around.”

“Are you always this annoying?” Patrick asked, awkwardly looking between the two of them before rolling his eyes and sighing, shucking his boxers anyways. It was only changing anyway, it didn’t matter.

“Oh no, honey, only for you.” Gee purred, crawling across the bed seductively and wiggling his bare ass in the air as he reached down for his stockings and panties. 

“Great.” Patrick mumbled, slipping into his shirt, buttoning it up before going after his slacks.

“You look wonderful in just a shirt like that.” Gee hummed. “Maybe you should preach like that, get the congregation all hot and bothered like I am.”

Patrick’s ears were red as he buttoned his slacks and tucked his shirt in properly, reaching or his clerical collar. “You know, somehow, I doubt my congregation would like that nearly as much as you would.” He sassed, turning to look at his face in the mirror. He had yesterday’s eyeliner stuck in dark smudges around his eyes, of course. He sighed loudly, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bottle – Liquid foundation.

“Oh, so Father wears makeup to church!” Gee laughed. “How interesting.”

“I met you literally eight hours ago and you already know too much.” Patrick grumped, making Gee laugh again. “How much do I have to pay you to get you to go away?”

“Oh, it doesn’t work like that, baby.” Gee purred, appearing behind Patrick in the mirror, naked save his lacy panties and stockings. Hands crept over Patrick’s hips, an easy smile on Gee’s face. “Pay me more and I might suck you off at Mass, though.”

“I- You know what, I have to go.” Patrick decided, putting the cap back on the foundation and turning around. “I have to go to Mass.” He told Gee, who was suddenly very close to his face. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Forgive me, Father,” Gee giggled. “I think I’m about to sin.”

“What?” Patrick asked confusedly, just in time to meet Gee’s lips on his own. He pushed the man back, trying to sound reproachful, a smile trying to creep onto his lips. “I’m already late.”

“Fine.” Gee rolled his eyes, grabbing his tanktop and shorts, pulling on the tightfitting black shirt and staring at Patrick, hips cocked. “Go to Mass, I’ll follow you out. Don’t want your Archbishop finding out how good it felt when I had your dick in my a-“

“Okay, I have Mass!” Patrick yelled, walking out of the room, leaving Gee to dissolve into a fit of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this today.
> 
> I wasn't going to post this today, but I'm going in for heart surgery next week and I'm scared shitless, trying to get as much of my stories out there as possible before the operation. I have Marfan Syndrome, which makes the connective tissue in my body degenerate, and my aortic valve is going to be fixed so it's not half-broken anymore. Open heart surgery at age 15 is not something I ever expected, please send good vibes my way! Gods know I need all I can get. 
> 
> Other than that, comment and tell me what you think of the dynamic here, Gee is probably my favourite thing ever right now.  
> Eternally yours,  
> xoxomika

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins!  
> Follow me on Twitter @grin_reaper6 for random shit, outdated memes, and the occasional YouTube video  
> ~xoxodaisukirose


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